


Kaleidoscope

by sugalights



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fate & Destiny, Insanity, M/M, Murder, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 15:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18967984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugalights/pseuds/sugalights
Summary: Hoseok is losing hope. But he’ll never stop trying to save the love of his life, even as he watches Namjoon lose more and more of himself each time around.





	Kaleidoscope

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by the music videos for 피 땀 눈물 and 血 汗 涙.

**— Cycle Nineteen —**

Hoseok wanted to be happy.

He thought by now he and Namjoon might be living the dream. More money than it was possible to spend. The power to affect meaningful change in the world. And an end to his nights waking up alone, skin slick with sweat and face crusted in dried tears, the stale taste of regret settled inside his mouth.

But when now became relative, so did his happiness.

“Mr. Jung?”

He tore his eyes away from the endless scroll of the large, glowing television hanging in the corner of his office long enough to glance at Chanmi. It was foolish to look, considering he knew what would meet his eyes. But it was habit now to take in the sight of her, accepting the appearance of his infatuated assistant as an inescapable omen.

This time she was fully nude. Hoseok chewed at the inside of his cheek after registering her naked form. He missed the more demure occasions, when she would at least keep on her lingerie. Or the one time when she kept her clothes on. That time had been the easiest.

Slouched into the cushioned leather of his high-backed office chair, Hoseok straightened his posture as she walked towards his desk, hips swaying with suggestion. He watched her as he always did, gaze falling to the creamy, pink triangle of skin between her thighs. The one consistency he noticed every time was her immaculate grooming. She kept herself clean shaven, not a dot of hair on the puffed mound of her sex.

She was at the corner of his desk then, leaning forward and holding his eyes. Her hands reached for his shoulders to push him back into the chair, her legs ready to straddle his lap. Hoseok grit his teeth. He'd given in once. It hadn't been worth it.

He snorted, blowing air forcefully through his nose, smacking away her hands before she touched him. He planted his feet on the ground to push his chair back away from her.

"Go home, Chanmi." He made a pointed glance at the open door on the far side of his too large office.

"But-"

"I'm not interested. Put your damn clothes on and go home to your husband and children."

Chanmi scoffed, hesitating for a moment as if she could call his bluff. He simply turned his attention back to the silent television, eyes refocusing on the scrolling subtitles.

He didn't register when she'd left. Why did he even keep hiring her, knowing she would seek him out? Was that inevitable too?

The words were lit up in banner titles, slowly crawling across the screen.

A medical disaster. Federal lawsuits. The drug administration launching a full investigation. Plummeting stocks. No doubt the phone he'd shut off almost a day ago was full of voicemails, texts, and emails threatening his accounts and definitely his life. He'd learned to shut off the phone by now.

Seeing it all fall apart the first time had been devastating. Now, it must’ve been the sixteenth time? Eighteenth? It didn't matter. He was unaffected.

He wanted to reach for the decadent bottle of gin he kept in his desk for emergencies. But it wouldn't be wise. Alcohol, he'd learned the hard way, always had a poor effect on the pill's efficacy.

With a sigh he heaved himself from the comfort of his office chair, brushing a hand across the expensive material of his suit jacket. He slipped two fingers into his front pocket, drawing out the tiny, pale, orange triangle that had become his only source of hope. Was it even hope that he felt now when he took it?

He slipped it between his lips, savoring the bitter taste for only a moment. Not hope. It was desperation. He sighed and, in a few solemn steps, walked through the double doors, mumbling an oath that this time it would definitely be different.

 

th͎͍͈͍̩̼̝̔̅̀̿̓i͕̱̯͕̹ͯ̍ͫͅͅs̠̠̻̩̐̋͛ͣͣ ̸̦̳i̩̺͎̘̜̼̟ͭs̜̤̽̓̌̓̏̈́̓ ̪ͧ͌͒̔a̹̖̟͍̲̹̣ͦ̍͗̒̅̚̚ ͚̙̾̍s̙̾̌͟p̖̠̗ͧě̡͓̝̦̹̓l̯͕ͤͮl̓ͮͧ́̊͂͟ ̫̟̩̩̦͇̅̄ẗ̝̱̮̺́ͨ̿͋h͕͔̭̮̯̍̈̐ȁ̷̱̱̯͕̪ͭt̷’ͯ͟ḻ̻͗̎͐ͫ̆͂l͈͈͚̮ͅ ̶̪͍̤̰͙̒̑p̧̼ͪ͂̽u̘̱̲͉̗̰̫̒̍̿ͦn̜̤̣̱͙͎͙i̱̘̥͓̪ͬ̆̌͋ͅs̯̦ͧͫh͕͇̞̪̺̱̋̂̈́̄͐͒̿͢ ̯̭̯̄͑̒m̧͔̻̗̻͐e̖͈̯͇͂͆ͥͤ̈̉͡

  
**— Cycle One —**

Namjoon finally let himself relax when Hoseok slid between the sheets of their tiny bed, joined by the fresh scent of soap that lingered from his shower. The tension in Namjoon's shoulders melted once he felt the warm, soft skin of his lover's chest pressing into his back.

"You're still awake?" Hoseok mumbled, no pretense of energy in his words. Namjoon knew he was tired. They both spent most of their waking hours either in labs, lectures, or libraries, but Hoseok's program seemed to be draining him to empty more and more lately.

"I can't sleep without you after all."

"I'm glad you're still up," Hoseok said. "There's something I've been wanting to ask you about."

Namjoon felt Hoseok pull him closer, arm tightening at the bend in his waist. His need for touch had never been great, but he would always give in to Hoseok's hands, missing the feel of them after long nights of being apart or feeling so exhausted that they barely registered each other’s presence.

"This is going to sound crazy..."

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever," Hoseok started, but seemed hesitant to continue. Namjoon stayed silent, hoping his quiet attention would be encouraging. "Have you ever thought realistically about time travel?"

Well, that wasn't the conversation he'd expected.

"Time travel? What the hell movies have you been watching without me? When do you even have time to watch movies, for that matter?"

"Hear me out, baby," Hoseok said. "You've studied physics for along time. The thought's really never crossed your mind?"

“No, I can't say it has,” he answered honestly, unsure where Hoseok was going with this train of thought. It felt like such a random thing to seriously consider in the middle of the night. “I'd rather attempt to reverse global warming or find safe, clean burning fuel than focus my doctoral dissertation on science fiction. Besides, isn't that more of an engineering question?"

"You study all things matter and energy and subatomic particles and you're asking me about engineering? I'm a chemist."

Namjoon laughed at the rebuttal, conceding to Hoseok's point.

"I'm just saying, what if it was possible? To travel through time and space."

"Then I'd go back in time and meet you sooner." Namjoon turned his body over in Hoseok's arms, brushing his lips against Hoseok's forehead as he continued to speak. Though the longing for them to meet Hoseok's mouth was slowly kindling beneath his exhaustion.

"I'd not waste the first two years of knowing you watching you date girl after girl while dying to kiss you every time you smiled at me." He could feel the smile spread across Hoseok's face, smiling in turn at his wasted wishes.

"Can you try to think bigger, Joon?"

"It's literally 1:30 in the morning, Hoseok. Cut me some slack for being skeptical. What's gotten you seriously considering time travel?"

There was a long pause and Namjoon wasn't sure if Hoseok had fallen asleep. Or was he really serious about this?

“We’ve been researching the accelerated growth of certain cells. And watching some advance and some almost freeze in time has gotten me curious, that's all. It's just something I want to look into.”

"If this isn't some elaborate prank, and you really want to research time travel, I'll help you. Now can we please go to sleep. I'm ready to drool in your hair."

"Sleep? Don't we have time for any other activities?"

"Ahh, maybe," Namjoon breathed, lowering his head long enough to finally catch Hoseok's lips with his own.

Later, as Namjoon felt himself drifting to sleep, limbs comfortably tangled with Hoseok's, he felt the softest kiss against his temple.

"Thank you for taking me seriously," Hoseok whispered, barely loud enough for Namjoon to hear.

"You're a bit crazy, Jung," Namjoon said quietly in return. "But I would do anything for you."

 

ì̵͖͉̲͖̦͔̞̦̟ ̴͔̻̞͚̻̊͒̈͝͠͝w̸̛̩͔̰͖̫̳̩͍̍̀̀̔ͅo̷͎̥͇͎͈̊̍̑̏͝͠ȗ̸͈̔̇͝ḽ̷̢̜͖̰̖̬͓͒̊̏̈́͝ͅd̴̡̬̪̲͑͒͋͒̄ ̸̬̍̓̋̊̌d̷̻̗̱̫̻̓̾̈̐̕͘o̷̜͔̜̼̯̽͘͘ ̴̣̰͘ǎ̸̢̧̮̟̜̠̗̺̬̃͛͌͂̃n̴̝̖̰̼̜̣͕̰̓́̓y̴̭̬͆͑͊̆̑̚t̷̜̦͚̽̄̾̊̈̊̕͜͜ḩ̴̲͕͔͔̞͚̥͛͂̑̈̌͝ḭ̴̢͔͓̥͖̻͆͜ͅn̴̨͉̥̥͔͕̤̗͔̊̋g̶͙͐͝ ̴̛̟͔͎̭̃͗̓̆͘͝f̴̩̩̔͒̏̍̓̑̏̑̋o̷̦̙̭̿͋͗͑͘ͅr̶̢̛̞͐̓̔͊͝ ̵̨͙͓̝͉̱͇̃̀̿y̸̦̲̬͙̰̰̯̅̅̾̔̑o̴͙̠̽͠ȗ̸̢̯̯̌͑͆̑̅͘͜

 

**— Cycle Three —**

"I'm...I'm going to take it."

Hoseok's eyes went wide, arms reaching towards Namjoon's. "N-no, you can't. We haven't tested it enough yet, there's still so much-"

But it was too late. Namjoon had swallowed the pill before Hoseok’s outstretched hands could knock it away. Pin pricks shot across Hoseok's skin as they held each others eyes, unable to move or even breathe. What had he done?

At first, nothing happened.

“Do you….do you feel anything?” Hoseok asked with caution.

Namjoon shook his head slowly, eyes moving from Hoseok's and staring blankly across the room.

Then Hoseok jumped, a shocked scream falling from his lips.

Namjoon had been standing there, just there near the counter, right next to him. And now suddenly he was across the room, in the doorway where he had been staring. Just like that, in the blink of an eye. Except he hadn’t blinked.

“How the fuck…”

“Holy shit, Ho...Ho...seo....”

Namjoon managed to get out, the big, dimpled smile on his face fading as quickly as his words as his body went limp, tumbling to the floor and Hoseok jumped again, bolting across the room to Namjoon's side.

"Joon?" His hands fell to Namjoon's chest, relief rushing through him as he felt the heartbeat beneath his lab coat. "Joon?" he repeated and Namjoon stirred, face flushed a deep pink color.

"I saw it."

"Saw what, baby? No, don't try to move," Hoseok insisted, pressing Namjoon's shoulders back to the floor as he tried to sit up.

"I saw heat and light and...and time. And my body just sort of..slipped through them." He turned his head, eyes facing where he once stood at the counter with Hoseok. "I saw the self I left there...and the self I am here."

Hoseok was panicking. This wasn't the pill he'd created, this was something altogether different. Namjoon gripped his hand and managed to sit up, eyes glowing with wildfire.

"I want to try it again," he said and the unbridled glee in the smile that grew on his face was more unsettling to Hoseok than anything else.

 

m̯̥̠͕̠y̧̒͊͒ ͔̙̥͓̫̬̒ͬͬ̓͆ç̃ͣo͙̱̣ͣ͠l͖̎͂̏d̼̎͑ ̹͈̮͡b̖̰͇͔͍̲̓̆ͫ͗ř̳̗̬̓̌̏͑̔ͪͅe̵a̧̹̟͉̞͍͎ͭt̖̝̘͍ͬͩ́̈͒h͚̭͈͖ͧ̅ͪ,ͣ ̩̱̗͈͕̬̙͐̌͌̄͋ta̝̼̪͕̐̇̆̊͢k̛̼̎e͍͔̱̬͋ ̬͉̤̣͐̿̔͡i̻̟̬̳̬͐͑ͅţ͆́ͫ̆̈́̚̚ ͐̅ͭ̚a͈̠͈͍̤̞̘ͩͦͩ͛ͩͪ̚w͕̥̜̬̼̝̼a͉͔̙͚̯͂̂̌̆̋ͯy͔͇̰̌

 

**— Cycle Eleven —**

The music pulsed throughout the club like a rhythmic heartbeat, blaring inside even the bathrooms and breathing life into the atmosphere.

With each groan settling somewhere deep in his chest, Namjoon buried himself over and over into the man in front of him, pressing him against the cool tiles of the wall inside the cramped stall.

“Holy shit, harder. F-fuck me...harder," the man moaned with enough volume to drown out the music for a moment. And that whine, the neediness in his voice called Namjoon closer. "The fucking room is dancing.”

“God, this ass,” Namjoon groaned, clinging onto the thick, rippled muscles of his stomach, his narrow waist. His hand slid along the length of his partner, tugging more of those delicious moans from his lips and dragging him straight to the edge.

“Please don't stop. Shit, whatever you gave me tonight, I need more of it," he hissed another moan, leaning himself up, using the hands splayed against the wall as leverage to drive Namjoon in deeper. "Ffff...fuck, I swear this is the best yet."

"Gave...you?” The movements of Namjoon's hips paused and he shook his head, as if some strange fog was lifting from his mind.

"Please, don't stop. I love you so much, baby, please, I'll do anything..." the dark-haired man whined again, pressing his hips back, the toned muscles of his ass grinding against Namjoon's slowly softening cock.

What exactly had he given him? And he loved...

Namjoon felt a rush of heat and then he was hurrying out of the exit of the club, feet stumbling beneath him as he struggled to keep his footing, as he hurriedly refastened his pants. What had he just done? His fingers rolled against his temples, the struggle of trying to keep his thoughts together getting harder each second. Why was it so hard to focus, as if more and more stretches of time were lost between jumps? Was this an unexpected side effect of the pills? But Hoseok wasn't-

Namjoon came to a stop near the line of taxis ready to drive away inebriated club goers, hands grabbing onto the sign post to steady himself. _Hoseok_.

"Hey!"

He turned back, seeing the dark-haired man from the bathroom stall running through the doors of the club. "You literally disappeared! What the hell happened?"

"This was a mistake. I don't know who you are, but don't follow me."

"What? Baby, you know my name. It's-" he started, but Namjoon clamped a large hand over his mouth.

"I don't want to know your name. Listen, I'm sorry, but this was a mistake. I don't know...I can't remember." Namjoon pressed his lips together. "We can't see each other again."

The man's eyebrows pressed together, those star-filled eyes glazing over for only a moment. And then he was hunching over, vomiting unnatural colors against the sidewalk and Namjoon made a quick exit, pressing the panic button on his keys until he found his silver BMW and slid inside, the sounds of the outside world sealing away as he pulled the door closed.

 

b̵̯̞̫̰̮̜͓̍͊̾ͪͣ̚u̺͌t̥̹͠ ̎ͣ̒y̩̺̝̖̦̒ͥͥͥ̉͡ö͔͉̩͍͖̘͈́ͤ̋͆̈̓͟u̬̞̼̩ͫ͋r͉͕ ̦̹́̾̍w̯̩̥͍̪̑̒̈ĩ̆̒ͣ̾̄͌҉͔n̢̜̳͚ͫ̌g̓̄̾ͥ͏̮͎s̵͍͚͗͐́ ̮a͚͂͂ͯ̚r͚͖̟̬͎̳̀͌͂̏̾ͨ̚ͅe͔̱̖̗ͨ ̙̼̤̱ẇ̢̦̫̟͉͎͉̓̐̆̆ͩ͐i̼̜̬͉̘͘n̜̺̬ͤͯ̏g̷͓ͥ̽̓̇̍̅̑s̻̝ͪͣͮ͆ͣ͌ͯ ͓̤̯͘ọ̐͝f̤͊̅̍ͦ͞ ̩̱̟͇̍̌͑ͥͨͪṭ̗̂ͤ̔ͮḧ̶̭͕̲̪̥̞ͭ̈̇̌̈e̗̙̘̥̙͔̣͛̂͡ ̣̝̦̗̱͐̄̒͞de̟̮̯̜͎̱͎̒̑̈v͍̫̗͇͗͂͐̄i̧̝͈̿̅̚ͅl̈́͂̀͆͂̈

 

**— Cycle Fifteen —**

Hoseok heard the key turning in the lock, heard Namjoon's curse through the paper thin door as the stupid thing jammed again for the millionth time. From his place on their ratty sofa, softly illuminated by the lamp on the end table next to him, he could hear everything, see enough. And when Namjoon finally made it inside, he could smell it. Though he would've known without all of that anyway.

Namjoon paused in the doorway once he'd spotted Hoseok, eyes going wide like a startled deer. Then he kicked off his shoes, avoiding his boyfriend's gaze.

"What are you doing awake, baby?"

Hoseok said nothing, bit his tongue because he was afraid to say anything. All this time, and it still hurt this much. Namjoon took long strides to the couch, staring at Hoseok with the same guilty smile he'd seen every time. How dare the dimples still be there, he thought.

"I can smell him on you," Hoseok finally spat and Namjoon's body jerked like he'd been pricked with electrical wire. "Him and whatever fucked up concoctions you both were taking this time."

"Hoseok." Namjoon looked confused, but didn't question why Hoseok already knew. Instead, he caved to his guilt. "Hoseok, please."

"Do you love me, Joon?"

"With all my heart. I just have these moments of weakness. Sometimes I even lose myself, I lose time and..and when I wake up... Hoseok, I love you. You have to believe me."

 

i̢̝͍͍̭̳̤̲'̽ͧlͯ̿͆̀̽̚҉̺̱̩l͗̋ ̍̇҉̭̭͙d̄̀ͦ̿̾ͨŕ̼͖̱͚̹͚͍ͮ̎̆̓̅i͍̮̝̙̱͓̋͒͟n͖͜k̈́̽͏͇̲̤̖͙̠̥ ̖̣̣̼̅͊̾ͅy̾o̗͗͆͑̑u̯͌͡ i̬̐ͤͣ̏ͪ̓ͅn̙̹͜ ̄ͣ͋̓̑ͮn̼͗͐͊̿̎̿̔͘o͇̹̳̾ͬ̚w̌̔̐ͩ͌̿͂͞

 

**— Cycle Seventeen —**

Hoseok waited until the strips of sunlight were touching the corner of their four poster bed before he sat up. The smooth satin of the sheets did little to ease the sour taste in his mouth. He glanced over at the empty space where Namjoon's body should be. He did it every time, hoping, praying that this time would be different.

But Namjoon's phone was the only thing left, carelessly tossed against his pillow. Hoseok let himself cry this time, cry for all the things that felt inescapable. The sobs shook his frame as he let his feelings flow freely into the quiet morning of the too large bedroom. And when he'd composed himself, he reached out to the pillow, quietly accepting the inevitable outcome of the day before him.

He knew where to look. Namjoon’s phone gave him away every time, their meetup location. Hoseok had tried stopping him. Tried getting there early to stop it all. But the universe had its design, always a step ahead of him. Rich, poor, together or not, it always unfolded the same.

In his heart of hearts he knew Namjoon did it to make things right. But it always went wrong. Somehow, it was destined to end in blood.

 

m̖̜̄y͕͕̭̖̭̦ͥ͌ͯͮ͛̉͐ ̦͕͎b̗̮͉̍ͭͭļ͈̤̖̞͚ͤͬ͊͐o̫͎̳̻̞̠͘o̝̳̣̞͇͊͂̆̃ͯd̑̂̅ͦ͒̓҉̩̻,͕͎͑̉͗̄ ̺̙͕̬̖͛ͦ͗ͫs͇͈̤͙̲̹͜w̨͉̣̳̪ͣẻ̜͕̝̱̦ͭ́ͯ͊̎͐å̢̝̖͂͆͗t̸,̾̉̓̾̓̐ͬ ̜͔̬̖ͩͭ͆͟a̴̖̭̩͊͑̋ͩ̚ṅ͙͒͗͂ͫͪd̷͕̦ͮ͛̔ͣ͊ ̝͎̤̙̤ͅẗ́ͪ҉̩ë̮̥̼͙͔̝́̂̌͒̋͢a̷͉̰̬̥͍̰ͣ̉r̘̞̬̫͖̪͎̾͠s̈҉̹͇

 

**— Cycle Zero —**

The cream of Hoseok's sweater was no longer, now stained the deepest crimson as lines of Namjoon's blood seeped into the fabric, his life force draining from the two bullet holes blown through his chest.

"He...you saw him, he...he killed my brother. I had to. I had to. Oh, God."

The man must have dropped the gun, must have fled the scene, but Hoseok hadn't noticed. Not when he was so fixed on Namjoon's eyes, hollow and glass-like as they stared up at him, at nothing.

"Joon," Hoseok sobbed. "Joon..."

Just a few feet away, near Namjoon's quickly cooling corpse was that of another. The man's body was clean, whatever drug Namjoon had given him clearly doing its work in quiet. He looked peaceful. But Namjoon's paling face, now wet with Hoseok's tears. There was no peace there.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," Hoseok hissed, voice barely there. "I won't let it be like this. I'll find a way. I'll find a way." His shoulders shook with his promises, pressing his lips to Namjoon's paling face over and over again.

 

o̘̬ͮ̋u͇̪ͤ̊̌̈͊͟ṛ̢̜̱̣͉̩̺́ͨ ̴̜͚͔̮͕̬̮͆̉ͬ͑̚ȭ̫̜̱w̲͚̲̋́̏ͪ͗͊n̬ͣ ̒͡l̴̘͖̭̥̯i͚̠̺t̽͑̔̌͢t͚̹͈̯͗͐̐̈̊ͦ̔ḽ͓̖̖͈̮̜̎̽͆͗ĕ̹͍̜̝̤͖̑͂̎̇ͅ ̵̩͉̲͇͇͈̯ͨ̎͌̋̎s̑ͬ̀ͬ̈́̚e̒̄͊͏̞̜ͅc̸͚̘̒͒̇ͦ͛͌̚rͧ͌̇̉ͬ͏̟͎e̬͇͙̠̦ͫ͡ẗ̷̹̗̼͙̤́ͅ

 

**— Cycle Eighteen —**

It could only be more gruesome this time. Hoseok thought once that it would get easier, simpler, but it never did. The more Namjoon lost himself, the more unhinged his actions became.

The first time it had been the boy’s older brother, simple gunshot wounds. But Namjoon hadn't been taking the warp pill yet, they hadn't invented it yet. It had only been a mistake, he had only been trying to make things right.

And each time after it only got worse. The person who killed him changed now and again. The location changed. But the events...he couldn't stop it, hadn't stopped it yet.

Namjoon’s hands were covered in blood. The young man lay naked on the floor, his body torn and mangled into a million different, sickening directions. Namjoon hadn’t even tried to protect himself this time, blood and glass trickling from his hands, shards of it lodged in his arms.

He had bludgeoned the man to death, broken pieces of alcohol bottles and drink glasses everywhere.

But this time he was still alive. Only a merciful two times had he already been dead when Hoseok arrived. Though Hoseok really couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

Namjoon's eyes were wild, panicked when he stepped into the room.

“Hoseok," he choked out, tears flowing from the corners of his eyes and Hoseok's chest lurched at the sight, the sound. "I...I think I did something terrible.”

“I-It’s ok, Joon," Hoseok managed to say, voice trembling. "I’ve…I’ve got you. Put down the broken glass, baby.” It was all he could do to keep from retching. This was the worst. Definitely the worst this time.

Namjoon’s mind was melting more and more each time. How many more chances did they have?

Moments later, armed officers flooded the room and Hoseok decided. This time. This time he would just let it end. He couldn’t save them from this fate, no matter how many times he lived it out, how many changes he tried to make. While Namjoon skated through the present, losing more and more of himself with every jump, Hoseok was ready to lose himself. To let it end.

He wanted to accept that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

"Drop your weapon!"

"Namjoon," he said in encouragement. "Do as they say."

The tears still flowed from Namjoon's eyes, his eyes sharpening as he stared down at the mangled corpse in front of him. "Hoseok what did I...I did something-"

The first shot rang out, followed by a shout to stand down. But it was too late. Always too late. Hoseok watch Namjoon's body crumple to the ground, limbs bending unnaturally. He didn't reach for him this time, instead dipping his fingers into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

He was a coward. He lifted the pill to his lips, swallowing it dry like a shard of reality. As time froze, as he felt his very cells slow their advance, he eyed the deranged mask that his lover held on that face even in death. Those dimples muddled with the eyes of a man long ago lost.

Hoseok would never stop trying.

He couldn’t say no. He couldn’t run away. He would try again. One more time. Just once, he promised himself for the eighteenth time.

 

ḿ͛ͯ̌̃͂̋y͎̘̺̿ͮ̈́ͫ͑͡ ̞ͫͫ̍̆l̟̘̒͗̈̚a̤̪͙̲͍̲͉ͪ̍s̘̬̫̫̽̃̎͝t̬̻̙͇͇ͦ͋͛̐ ̳͕͍͎̩̻̭̾ͯ̏͑͜d̥̱̖̦̻͆̅̋̏̏ͨͫa̪̬͈̣̮͇ͣ͞n̻̋ͤͤcͥͥ҉̗̝͍͉̞͇̩e̥̞̻͂͐̅ͫ̓͋,̰͚̘̱̱͒̉̕ ͇̦̭̃̂̑͆̉̓͝t̛̹̪͉̓̐̏̅̎ä̖̹̭̓̚k̩͒̑̉͟ͅe̩̪̩͖̬̓͐ͯ̕ ̺̻̪͙ͦ̇͋̋̈́͂i͔͓̞̤̪̲͔ͥt̡̩͈͕ͣ̏͋ ͋͑̓̄̏ͭa̯̘̗͕̫͙̟͋ͤͤ͛ͫ͊ŵ̬̪͓͈̰̑ͯ̌̀̏̕a̸͊y̱̦͉̖̻͑̏̑

 

**— Cycle One —**

Hoseok drug the damp towel through his hair one last time before leaving the cramped bathroom and padding over to the small bed he shared with Namjoon.

Everything felt so surreal, like waking up from a lingering dream and still feeling like it hadn't ended. Namjoon's back was to him, the sound of his quiet breathing barely filling the space and Hoseok choked back his tears of disbelief.

He slid into the bed, slipping an arm across Namjoon's waist and felt the tension release from Namjoon's back. Hoseok was at a loss. He was really here, breathing and alive.

Maybe he hadn't made a mistake. Maybe, if they worked together, he could prevent the future he'd lived through.

"You're still awake?" Hoseok mumbled at the base of Namjoon's neck, voice weak and shaky with nerves.

"I can't sleep without you after all."

 

ì̵͖͉̲͖̦͔̞̦̟ ̴͔̻̞͚̻̊͒̈͝͠͝w̸̛̩͔̰͖̫̳̩͍̍̀̀̔ͅ o̷͎̥͇͎͈̊̍̑̏͝͠ ȗ̸͈̔̇͝ ḽ̷̢̜͖̰̖̬͓͒̊̏̈́͝ͅ d̴̡̬̪̲͑͒͋͒̄ ̸̬̍̓̋̊̌d̷̻̗̱̫̻̓̾̈̐̕͘ o̷̜͔̜̼̯̽͘͘ ̴̣̰͘ǎ̸̢̧̮̟̜̠̗̺̬̃͛͌͂̃ n̴̝̖̰̼̜̣͕̰̓́̓ y̴̭̬͆͑͊̆̑̚ t̷̜̦͚̽̄̾̊̈̊̕͜͜ ḩ̴̲͕͔͔̞͚̥͛͂̑̈̌͝ ḭ̴̢͔͓̥͖̻͆͜ͅ n̴̨͉̥̥͔͕̤̗͔̊̋ g̶͙͐͝ ̴̛̟͔͎̭̃͗̓̆͘͝f̴̩̩̔͒̏̍̓̑̏̑̋ o̷̦̙̭̿͋͗͑͘ͅ r̶̢̛̞͐̓̔͊͝ ̵̨͙͓̝͉̱͇̃̀̿y̸̦̲̬͙̰̰̯̅̅̾̔̑ o̴͙̠̽͠ ȗ̸̢̯̯̌͑͆̑̅͘͜


End file.
